THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SONGS  OF 
INEXPERIENCE 


BY 


BEATRICE   DAW 


BOSTON 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 

MCMXVI 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY  BEATRICE  DAW 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Some  of  the  following  poems  are  reprinted  through 
the  kindness  of  the  Vassar  Miscellany,  the  Bryn  Mawr 
Lantern,  and  the  Intercollegiate  Socialist. 


The  Gorham  Press,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

MY   MOTHER 


612833 

UBRARY 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Hymn    ........       9 

You  Whom  They  Buried       .         .         .         .10 

Chance  Resistance n 

Resignation     .......     12 

A  Quiet  Sunset 12 

In  November,  in  a  Strange  City     .         .         .13 
Cloud-Change  at  Sunset          .         .         .         .14 

Carpe  Diem  .         .         .         .         .         .         .15 

Katharsis         .         .         .         .         .         .         .16 

The  Jester      .         .  .         .         .         .17 

Withheld 18 

Mist-Bound 18 

The  Worshipper    .         .         .         .         .         .19 

Being 2O 

A  Dream  of  Death 20 

Sentimentalizing    It         .....     21 
Comrade  Song        .         .         .  .         .22 

An  Enemy  Hath  Done  This  .         .         .         .23 

A  Lute 24 

On  Looking  through  a  Set  of  History  Exami 
nation  Papers 25 

Mars,   Hear! 26 

War-Feast 28 

A  Pagan         .......     29 

The  Dying  Emperor  Hadrian  to  his  Soul         .     30 
Quintessence  .  .     .         .         .         .         .     31 

L'Envoi 32 


SONGS  OF  INEXPERIENCE 


HYMN 

O  YE  who  walk  among  the  darker  ways, 

The  slaves  of  life,  whose  fettered  hands  must  give 

The  coin  of  blood  and  sweat  and  crime  that  pays 

Your  tribute  for  the  bitter  right  to  live, 

Whose  brows  have  felt  the  brand  of  unsought  sin, 

Whose  clouded  eyes  look  forth  the  night  within, — 

Deep  unto  troubled  voiceless  deep  responds, 

Thou  thwarted  God  in  bonds! 

O  ye  who  dash  your  strength  of  heart  and  brain 
Against  the  limits  of  the  things  that  be, 
Who  challenge  all  the  ancient  laws  of  pain, 
And  fight  for  foothold  nearer  liberty, 
Strong  souls,  upon  the  wings  of  whose  desire 
The  race  ascends,  slow  truth  by  truth  the  higher, 
Take  thou  the  praise  wherewith  my  soul  is  thrilled, 
God  who  would  be  fulfilled! 


YOU,    WHOM   THEY   BURIED 

SOMETIMES,    when     I    have    lived    a    long    day 

through, — 

A  futile  day  of  crowded  sordid  things, 
Unmeaning  tasks,  and  pin-prick  sufferings, — 
I  let  my  tired  spirit  fly  to  you, 
And  on  the  tranquil  height  you  lead  it  to, 
Serene  in  you  it  rests,  and,  homing,  brings 
The  comfort  of  your  presence  in  its  wings, 
That,  deep-renewed,  I  face  the  dawn  anew. 

Love,  shall  it  be  that  at  some  evening-tide 

I  shall  fare  forth  on  the  accustomed  flight, 

And  on  a  sudden  feel  that  I  have  died, 

And  drift  upon  dark  space,  uncharted  night, — 

Then  hear  the  rustle  of  your  robe  beside, 

And  somehow  know,  and  wing  the  way  aright  ? 


10 


CHANCE    RESISTANCE 

(In  the  time  of  the  plague  of  the  children,  August, 
1916.) 

GOLD  blooms  and  red  blooms, — 
(So  gay,  so  gay). 
Lo,  here  a  reaper 
To  cut  his  way. 

Down  drop  the  bright  buds 
Beneath  the  flail. 
It  bends  not  the  white  bloom 
That  seemed  so  frail. 


II 


RESIGNATION 

WHEN  God  unwittingly  has  chanced  to  make 
Some  cruel,  irretrievable  mistake, 
How  it  must  grieve  the  baffled,  yearning  One, — 
That  ready  slander  of  "Thy  will  be  done." 


A   QUIET    SUNSET 

A  PALE  clear  light  that  lingers  on  the  leaves ; 
A  gentler  moment  in  the  breezes'  play; 
Hushed  twitter  of  the  swallows  in  the  eaves ; 
A  shadow,  and  a  calm, — the  end  of  day. 


12 


IN   NOVEMBER,   IN  A  STRANGE  CITY 

I  LIKE  to  close  my  eyes  to  the  rain 
And  think  of  the  buckwheat-field  again. 
The  fair  white  slope  of  blossomy  snow 
Drifting  down  to  the  stream  below, 
Glowing  and  quivering,  quickened  through 
By  the  straight  hot  light  from  the  cloud 
less  blue; 

Wavering  ripple  of  brightness  and  shade, 
Running  wherever  the  wind  has  played; 
Murmuring  drone  of  unnumbered  bees ; 
Drenching  honey-scent  sweet  on  the  breeze; 
Warm  deep  glow  of  midsummer  skies. — 
Mine, — for  an  instant  of  closing  eyes. 


CLOUD-CHANGE   AT    SUNSET 

BEHIND  the  rifts  in  wind-torn  dusky  skies, 
Sudden  the  gold-rayed  flames  of  sunset  rise. 
Is  beauty  grown  a  commonplace  to  God  ? — 
Or  can  he  too  feel  joyous  sharp  surprise? 


CARPE    DIEM 
(Horace,  Carmlna,  I,  II.) 

SEEK  not,  Leuconoe,  to  know  the  day 
The  gods  have  set  to  bound  thy  life,  or  mine  ; 
Nor  try,  through  wise  soothsayer's  mystic  sign, 
To  wrest  the  secrets  of  high  Jove  away. 
Tempt  not  his  wrath  to  learn  his  yea  or  nay, 
But,  whether  hosts  of  years  shall  yet  be  thine 
Or  this  the  last  that  seas  shall  dash  their  brine 
On  hidden  rocks, — the  point  is,  to  be  gay! 

I  counsel  wisdom, — let  the  wine  be  strained, 
And  spare  thyself  long  hopes,  for  swift  their 

flight. 

See,  while  I  spoke,  Time  his  advantage  gained, — 
With  every  word,  a  moment  vanished  quite. 
Leave  sober  thinking  for  some  far-off  hour ! 
Now  let  us  pluck  the  day's  fast-fading  flower. 


KATHARSIS 

BELOVED,  on  whose  path  the  shadow  fell, 
I  learn  how  loving  shall  be  purified. 
It  is  a  cleansing  thing  to  be  denied 
The  solitude  where  you  and  sorrow  dwell. 


16 


THE    JESTER 

I  HAVE  danced  and  shaken  my  bells, 
And  have  piped  my  merriest  lay ; 
And  the  stars  of  my  lady's  eyes 
Looked  down  on  the  jester's  play. 

'  Tis  a  willing  fool,"  she  said, 
As  her  lover  drew  her  away, 
And  my  lady  smiled  on  the  fool. — 
A  smile  is  a  jester's  pay. 


WITHHELD 

You  in  your  strength  looked  down,  and  saw  me 

stand 

Before  the  portal  of  the  long-sought  land. 
You  flung  it  wide,  that  I  might  pass  within, — 
But,  passing,  might  not  even  touch  your  hand. 


MIST-BOUND 

BEHIND,  the  lights  of  shore;  the  quiet  swell 
Of  harbor  waves ;  slow-swinging  harbor  bell. — 
Before,  the  grey  drift  of  the  open  sea, 
And  something  I  would  follow,  calling  me. 


18 


THE   WORSHIPPER 

EACH  day  the  temple  echoed  back  his  prayer, 
And  saw  the  smoke  of  prayerful  sacrifice 
In  fragrant  clouds  above  the  altar  rise, 
Before  the  hidden  god  enshrined  there. 
Long  years  in  faith  he  served,  nor  asked  for  sign ; 
And  one  day,  at  the  altar's  foot,  he  died, 
And  with  new  vision  saw  One  draw  aside 
The  altar's  veil, — and  lo!  an  empty  shrine. 


BEING 

Too  quaintly  wrought  the  knot  for  all  who  tried. 
Some  laughed  and  flung  the  mocking  thing  aside, 
And  some  with  patient  ringers  fumbled  on 
Until  their  dull  eyes  glazed,  unsatisfied. 


A   DREAM    OF   DEATH 

I  TREAD  on  ground  that  fails  beneath  my  feet, 
I  strain  my  eyes  at  mists  of  baffling  grey, 
I  stretch  out  groping  hands,  the  dark  to  meet, 
And  call,  and  hear  faint  answer  far  away. 


20 


SENTIMENTALIZING    IT 

A  THING  that  was  dear  has  been  torn  away; 
A  comfort  is  gone  out  of  every  day; 
The  springs  of  a  gladdening  love  are  dry. — 
(Well,  every  dog  must  sometime  die.) 

An  instant  terror, — a  choking  bark, — 
A  moment's  shuddering  fight  in  the  dark 
With   the  Enemy, — silent,   conquering. — 
(To  choke  on  a  bone's  a  common  thing.) 

The  brass-nailed  collar  that  meant — a  run! 
The  opened  gate, — the  road  in  the  sun ! 
A  leaping  joy  at  our  liberty. — 
(A  useless  thing  should  be  burned,  maybe.) 

Now  a  walk  is  an  aimless,  limp  affair 
When  a  leash  isn't  pulling  you  anywhere, 
And  blankness  lies  in  wait  at  the  door. — 
(The  paint  was  badly  scratched,  before.) 


21 


COMRADE-SONG 

OH,  long  is  the  road  that  leads  over  the  hill, 

The  road  that  is  calling  us  on, — 

And  in  sunshine  and  storm  we  follow  it  still 

Till  the  light  of  the  day  is  gone. 

But  'tis  ever  a  sunlit  way  for  me, 

And  never  a  day  is  long, 

When  your  step  with  mine  on  the  road  swings 

free, 
And  your  hand  with  mine  clasps  strong. 


22 


AN    ENEMY    HATH    DONE    THIS 

I  WATCH  you  growing  dully  old,  and  know 
How  well  he  wrought  who  wronged  you,  long  ago. 
He  who  withheld  the  birthright, — he  would  see 
Gray  age,  uncomforted  by  memory. 


A   LUTE 

I  HAVE  sold  my  lute, — 

Right  brave  was  I! 

I  have  need  to  forget  that  I  loved  a  song; 

I  have  need  to  make  sure  that  my  arm  is  strong. 

I  will  struggle  and  learn, 

I  will  labor,  and  earn, 

And  the  world  shall  be  served  of  me  well,  erelong. 

What  need  of  the  lie? 

I  hid  the  lute 

For  none  would  buy. 


24 


ON  LOOKING  THROUGH  A  SET  OF  HIS 
TORY  EXAMINATION  PAPERS 

DIM  figures  move  across  the  changing  stage, — 
Vague  forms,  half  lost  in  shadow,  half  defined; 
Now  and  again,  one  greater,  to  their  mind, 
Pushes  to  foreground, — warrior,  priest,  or  sage. 
Now  busy  peace  succeeds  to  war, — the  rage 
Of  hard-fought  battlefields  is  left  behind, 
And  here  are  matters  of  a  homely  kind, 
"Commerce,  pursuits  and  customs  of  the  age." 

Well-trained,  these  young  folk!     Facts  at  fingers' 

ends! 

The  shames  and  glories  of  the  centuries 
Are  focussed  in  the  facile  book  they  quote, 
And  the  young  judgment  blithely  apprehends. 
A  penscratch  covers  tottering  dynasties; 
A  nation's  downfall  makes  a  schoolgirl's  note. 


MARS,    HEAR! 

IDOL  of  monstrous  power, 
Lord  of  the  raging  hour, — 
Hard  it  is  for  our  lips  to  name  thee  thy  rightful 

name, — 
Hard,  for  our  hands  have  wrought  thee  titles  of 

lustrous  fame; 

Hard,  for  our  dazzled  sight  has  seen  thee  in  glori 
ous  guise; 

Hard,  for  thy  worship  rings  through  ages  of  splen 
did  lies, — 

How  must  the  prayer  be  prayed? 
How  shall  thy  hand  be  stayed? 

Still  must  thy  breath  be  drawn  of  the  stench  of  our 

offerings  ? 
Still  must  thine  eyes  be  fain  of  bleeding  mangled 

things? 
Still  must  thy  thirst  be  quenched  at  the  open  wounds 

of  slain? 
Still  must  thy  lust  be  fed  with  surfeit  of  innocent 

pain? 

Idol  of  monstrous  power, 
Lord  of  the  furious  hour, — 


26 


How  shall  thy  might  be  turned  from  the  path  of  its 

ugly  play? 
Wrought  of  our  will  thou  art,  and  yet  know  we  not 

the  way! 
We  who  have  kissed  with  tears  the  stroke  of  thy 

bloody  rod 
Call  to  thee,  monster-soul  we  have  put  in  the  place 

of  God,— 

How  must  the  prayer  be  prayed? 
How  shall  thy  hand  be  stayed  ? 


WAR-FEAST 

HIGH  runs  the  revel,  the  rich  wine  cheers, — 
(Red  wine,  slaughter,  and  white  wine,  tears.) 

My  lord  Death  is  merry,  he  holds  high  state, 
My  lord  Pain  with  him,  and  my  old  lord  Hate. 
The  three  love  laughter;  they  are  hoarse  through 

mirth. 
My  lord  Death's  whisper  bids  them  look  toward 

Earth. 

"Hark,  friends,  the  music!    The  good  sound,  hear! 
The  low  chord,  groaning, — the  high  shrill,  fear. 
'Tis  loud  now  as  thunder, — the  red  field's  strown. 
'Tis  soft  now,  and  quavers, — a  child  cries  alone. 

"Strains   meet    for   banquets,    where    rich    wine 

cheers. 
(Red  wine,  slaughter,  and  white  wine,  tears.) 

"How  now,  ingrates!     Your  full  hearts  forget 
Him  at  whose  bidding  we  three  friends  are  met. 
Drink  we  his  honour,  and  his  long  bright  fame!" 
— They  clink  full  goblets,  and  they  name  that  name. 


28 


A    PAGAN 

I  AM  a  pagan,  I ! 

I  worship  earth,  and  sun,  and  sea,  and  sky. 

I  know  not  worse  from  better  form  of  words, — 

My  creed  is  compact  of  the  songs  of  birds, 

And  waving  grasses,  and  the  sun's  glad  light, 

And  strong  high  hills,   and  rivers,  silver-bright, 

And  still,  soft  clouds  that  wondrously  drift  by, — 

I  am  a  pagan,  I ! 

I  never  wonder  why 
All  men  are  born  to  sin,  and  then  to  die. 
Only  I  wonder  sometimes,  joyously, 
Why  all  the  glorious  great  things  should  be 
That  I  am  part  of, — and  would  somehow  praise 
The  hidden  mighty  Soul  of  them  always, 
The  Soul  of  earth,  and  sun,  and  sea,  and  sky. — 
I  am  a  pagan,  I ! 


THE    DYING   EMPEROR    HADRIAN   TO 
HIS    SOUL 

(Aniihula  vagula,  blandula, 
HospeSj  comesque  corporis, 
Quae  nunc  abibis  in  loca? — 
Pallidula,  rigida,  nudula, — 
Nee,  ut  soles,  dabis  iocos.) 

Thou  white  little  tremulous  spiritling, 
Soul-guest,  my  earthly  companion, 
Whither  must  thou  be  a-faring — 
So  pale,  unprotected,  reluctant? — 
Farewell  to  the  jest  of  existing! 


QUINTESSENCE 
(To  M.  E.  D.) 

OF  the  rose,  sweet  breath, 
Of  the  lark,  a  song ; 
And  of  you,  the  high  brave  will 
For  righting  wrong. 

Of  the  wild  free  flame, 
Zeal  to  destroy; 
And  of  you,  white  pure  desire 
For  others'  joy. 


L'ENVOI 

"Goe,  lytel  boke!" 

Thus  Chaucer,  ere  he  laid  aside  the  pen 
That  made  the  loves  of  Cressid  burn  again, 
Humming  the  while  the  fragment  of  an  air 
Caught  from  some  vagrant  golden-tongued  trouvere. 

Thus  Spenser,  fearful  of  what  should  befall 
The  fragile  charms  of  his  new  pastoral; 
Half  wistfully,   perhaps,   remembering 
The  note  he'd  heard  his  merry  master  sing. 

Were  not  my  love  steeped  in   humility, 
My  penny-whistle  had  not  thus  made  free, 
Worshipful   masters,   of  your  pleasantry, — 
"Goe,  lytel  boke!" 


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